


i guess i'm glad you're not dead? that would be dumb, or whatever

by karennninas



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen, takes place in 2014 post-dofp, this is just them being a dysfunctional family i cant belie v e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7517768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karennninas/pseuds/karennninas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>rogue and logan sorting out what memories they do and don't share after he Changes History</p>
            </blockquote>





	i guess i'm glad you're not dead? that would be dumb, or whatever

**Author's Note:**

> anyways i realized that every fic on this website that was about rogue and logan was romantical and i decided that that's Not Okay because that, kids, is pedophilia. and it's not good. 
> 
> so this is good old father/daughter dynamic bc it's So Important,
> 
> comments/kudos are sleeping in on a weekend <33
> 
> also follow me on tumblr @orxromonroe :DDD

Rogue’s room was the standard _Xavier’s_ dorm, despite her age, with light blue walls, a closet, a twin bed, and a desk-chair set. There was a big light on the ceiling connected to a fan, and there was a pink beanbag chair in the corner that looked like it was about a hundred years old. The wall above the bed was a mosaic of polaroids and drawings stuck with scotch tape, and there was an old rug on the floor in between the bed and the desk. 

 

Logan knew her room. He’d been in it a hundred times: watching movies, bringing ice cream pints from out of town, absently listening to her talk and talk and talk about her confusing love life-- but that was all in a different reality. That was in the reality that she didn’t know.

 

“So, you don’t remember anything before this morning?” Rogue asked as she set her bag down on her desk. 

 

“I _do_ remember. I think-- I think a lot of my reality is similar to yours, except for the last fifteen years. You and me met in a bar in Canada, right? Something like 20 years ago.” Logan sat on the chair in front of the desk and he looked across at Rogue, who sat on the bed looking at him with her face all twisted up in thought.

 

_Except for the last fifteen years_. That phrase is stored in the back of her mind, because he looked empty when he said it. For a second, he looked a lifetime older. _The last fifteen years_. They must’ve been bad, to make him look like that. “Yeah. You, um, you cut a shotgun in half.” The last fifteen years, for her, were normal. She worked at the school and taught art history. She had a fiancé, a best friend, and another best friend who was old enough to be her father (Logan). They were good years.

 

“I remember.”

 

“Why’d you need to alter reality?” The statement was blunt, but her face was untwisted; she looked determined. “I wanna understand, um, _why,_ exactly, you needed to invalidate all my memories of you.” She wasn’t mad. She was hurt. A little bit annoyed. “Yesterday, you and me sat by the fountain during lunch and ate brownie-in-a-mugs, because it was this kid’s birthday and he made them in the kitchen. But that never happened for you, right?”

 

“ _Marie_ , the only reason we _could_ sit by the fountain eating brownies is because I altered reality. If I hadn’t, you’d be dead right now.” He could tell that she understood. She didn’t want to, but it made sense. 

 

“ _Right_?” Her voice was soft, not harsh. Not as pointed as she had been. She wanted her friend back. 

 

“Rogue, I think... the last clear memory I have of us by that fountain was before you got the Cure-- so it was a good while ago. You were upset about getting a C- on this history paper-- Alexander the Great-- and you were parading around, hugging it to your chest like you thought you could make it disappear if you concentrated hard enough. You were pacing back and forth in front of me, so I promised I’d put in a good word with Ororo. Then you sat on the edge of the fountain for three hours trying to decide if you should just drown the paper in it.” It was a good memory. He was able to hold onto it in picturesque detail for years; he always suspected that the professor had something to do with it. He looked at Rogue, waiting for a response. 

 

She nodded, staring right through him, and said, “I don’t remember that ever happening.” 

 

“Well--” he got up and sat next to her on the edge of the dorm-issued mattress. “There’s gotta be some stuff that’s the same. The way we met-- that’s still the same.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“What else? Anything before you turned 19 could be the same-- mostly. I’m thinking there’s some difference with your... senior year of high school. And the end of your junior year.” _Because that’s when Jean and Scott died, that’s when you left and got cured, that’s when everyone started dying--_

 

“You have a smoking problem.” She still spoke softly; she was just beginning to turn her head away from the wall to her right, the one by the desk at which Logan was no longer sitting. 

 

He smiled at the back of her head. “It’s not a problem. If my lungs automatically heal themselves, it doesn’t count as a problem.” 

 

She glanced at him. “That’s true. You go.” 

 

“Are you and Bobby Drake still dating?” He knew that the answer was yes. 

 

“You saw us earlier; that doesn’t count. Something _real_ , Logan,” she said. She stared down at the floor in front of them. “I want-- you’re my friend, and-- and you’re not _there_. You don’t remember when I was nineteen and I fell asleep watching a movie in the living room and every kid was afraid to shake my shoulder, so you came and carried me to my bedroom without blinking an eye. And I was asleep, so I don’t know the details, but _you_ do. You did. Trading generally true information isn’t gonna do anything. Neither of us has the little things anymore.” 

 

“You’re right. But, my little things are a lot worse than yours. You don’t remember when Jean drowned right in front of us, or when Scott left the mansion and the only part of him we ever found was his glasses.” He paused. “You don’t remember when you felt so hopeless that you-- you stood in line for three hours to get the cure. That’s what I remember. But while you were getting a vaccination to reverse your DNA in my world, you were probably studying for exams in this world. Get it?” 

 

She thought for a minute, still staring at the floor until sighing and looking up at him. “When I was like, 18, I had these two weeks where I had nightmares every night. We never figured out why. But after the first three nights, you came in and started sleeping on the floor next to my bed. You would wake me up when I started tossing and you’d stay up till I fell back asleep.” She knew he wouldn’t remember since it probably didn’t happen to him, but she still waited for him to answer, looking calm. Less upset. 

 

“Scott heard me call you _pumpkin_ once when you were 17 and didn’t let it go for a month. I woke up every morning to a thousand messages addressed to ‘pumpkin’ and ‘sweetie-pie’ until he saw me carrying you upside-down across the yard-- you’d been trying to set your term paper on fire. I think that he knew that... you mean a lot to me.” He waited for her to flip back to being upset, but she didn’t. 

 

She cracked a smile and gazed up at him. “ _I_ mean a lot to you? _Me_?”She placed a hand over her heart in feigned disbelief at the word _me_. 

 

“I know that you’re thirty-four, but you’re not too old for me to carry you across the courtyard and throw you in the fountain,” he said, standing up from the bed. 

 

“Hey!” She stood up next to him. “That happens in this universe, too. I guess your tolerance for bullshit never changes.” 

 

They stared at each other for a second, each finally taking a good look, and they hugged. It probably meant more to Logan since he’s the one who’d gone years thinking Rogue had been dead, but it barely took her more than a second to realize that she hadn’t hugged him since New Year’s Eve. 

 

“I’m glad we’re all not dead, or whatever,” she reluctantly admitted when they broke apart. “Getting experimented on... would’ve sucked.” 

 

“I’m glad you’re not dead, too.” 


End file.
